End of Enemies (16 page)

Tanner disembarked the Tokkaido at Sannomiya Station and started walking. The night was balmy with a slight breeze. He turned right on Tor Road, walked north two blocks, then turned left toward the garden. Down the block he glimpsed Cahil standing in front of a shop window, studying bonsai trees.

The Sorakuen was an amalgamation of English and Oriental styles with labyrinth hedgerows, tall cedars, and colored accent lights lining the walkways. He walked through the entrance and onto a small footbridge spanning a brook. He reached the center fountain courtyard and sat down on the southernmost bench.

He glanced at his watch: twenty minutes to go. Hidden somewhere nearby, Cahil would be watching. One less thing to worry about. Now he waited.

Forty-five minutes later, he was about to leave when a lone woman appeared on the path. She stopped at the fountain. Heart pounding, Tanner watched.
Come on,
come on
…
She sat down on the fountain's rim, took off her left shoe, shook out a pebble, then put it back on.

I'll be damned.

Tanner removed his coat and laid it across his left knee.

She walked over to him.
“Gomen nasai,
e-ki wa do ko desu ka
?”
Excuse me, where is the train station?

Now came the test. Tanner replied,
“Massugu mae yu-binkyoku.
Taka sugimasu.
”
Straight ahead in front of the post office. It's very expensive, though. Tanner watched her carefully; she was agitated but standing her ground.

“
Yoyaku shimashita,
”
she said. I have a reservation.

“Do you understand English?”

“Yes.”

“Please sit down.”

“Who are you?” she whispered.

“Sit down.”

“No. I know Umako is dead. Tell me—”

Tanner could see little of her face, but she looked young. “If I meant you harm, we wouldn't be talking. Sit down.”

She hesitated, then sat down. “Who are you?”

“A friend of Ohira's.”

“How can I believe you?”

“How did I know about this meeting?”

“Perhaps you tortured him.”

“You know that's not true. I was with him when it happened. He gave me a key to a locker—”

“You're lying! He told me he used some kind of code.”

“He did …
we
did. We need to talk. Is there a place we can—”

Abruptly, she stood up. “I don't know you. You could be the police.”

“I know you're scared,” Tanner said. “I don't blame you. I can help you. It's your choice, though. If you decide to go, I won't stop you.”

She paused, thinking. “How well do you know Kobe?”

“Enough to get around.”

“I know a place. I will give you directions.”

Her directions took Tanner and Cahil to a small
shokudo
,
or neighborhood restaurant, in an old residential neighborhood. It was after midnight, and the streets were deserted. The cobblestones glistened under the streetlights.

Even before they knocked on the paper-paned door, it opened. A teenage boy waved them inside, then led them through the kitchen and into the alley, where they climbed a wooden stairway. At the top was a door. The boy knocked, and it opened, revealing the woman. She let them inside, whispered something to the boy, then shut the door.

“He has nothing to do with this,” she said. “I don't want him involved.”

“He won't be,” Tanner said.

“I've made tea.”

Tanner smiled; even now, Japanese politeness asserted itself.

She poured and they sat on tatami mats around a low table.

“Now tell me what happened to Umako.”

Tanner did so, leaving nothing out. As he finished, the woman began sobbing.

Tanner and Cahil exchanged glances. She and Ohira had been lovers, he suddenly realized. What in God's name had Ohira been thinking? Had the affair been genuine or simply his way of turning her? If so, what did she know that was important enough to risk such an entanglement?

“What's your name?” he asked softly.

She brushed the tears away. “Sumiko Fujita.”

“I'm very sorry, Sumiko. How long had you and Umako been …”

“Lovers. You can say the word. I am not ashamed. Almost a year.”

“What kind of help were you giving him?”

“No. Not until I know who and what you are.”

Tanner was torn. He looked to Bear and got a shrug:
Your call,
bud.
Tanner decided to trust his instincts. He told Sumiko their names. “As far as what we are … How much do you know about Umako's work?”

“He was spying on Takagi.”

“Do you know why?”

“Something about illegal arms dealing.”

“He told you that?”

“Yes.”

“Did he tell you who he was working for?”

“I'm not stupid, Mr. Tanner. As soon as I saw you, I knew.”

“How do you feel about that?” asked Cahil.

“I knew Umako. He was a good man. I also know Hiromasa Takagi. He is not a good man. I am a lawyer in Takagi's Office of Counsel. I have seen enough. You still haven't told me why you are here,” Sumiko said. “But, to be honest, I'm not sure I care. Will you find who killed Umako?”

“If we can,” Tanner replied.

“If you want my help, you must promise to get them.”

Cahil said, “That might be easier said than done.”

“But not impossible.”

“No, not impossible.”

“Umako died in your arms, Mr. Tanner. He was working for you.”

Tanner nodded.

“Then you must make this right. You must do the honorable thing.”

Tanner had already thought the same thing. Ohira had put himself in harm's way doing what he thought was right. For him, integrity had transcended all else, and Briggs respected that. “We'll find the man,” he said.

“Good. Now tell me what you want to know.”

For the next two hours, they questioned her. She held nothing back. She had a near-photographic memory and a razor-sharp mind. “Lately, Umako had been especially interested in the Tokushima Shipyard,” she said at last.

“Why?” asked Tanner.

“I don't know. When we first started, he was concentrating on the electronics division: patent information, purchasing contracts, end-user certificates.”

This made sense. Patent information and purchase agreements were logical places to start, and end-user certificates are designed to identify the buyers of restricted technology and weapons systems, who, in theory must be recognized governments. In reality, however, they were easy to circumvent.

“When did he start asking about Takagi Maritime?” asked Cahil.

“Two months ago. He wanted details on shipbuilding, insurance subsidiaries, underwriting … and whether Takagi handled contract salvage jobs.”

Suddenly Tanner remembered Ohira's chart and the hunch he needed to pursue. “Do they?” he asked.

“Salvage work? Not that I know of. They do build on contract, but I'm not sure what exactly. I had just started getting some of the things Umako wanted when he … when they killed him”

“Where is that information now?” asked Tanner.

Sumiko stood up, walked to the wall, removed a section of baseboard, and withdrew an accordion folder. She handed it to Tanner, “Recently Umako felt sure he was under suspicion, so he asked me to hide this.”

“Could anyone have connected the two of you?”

“No. He was very cautious. We both were. We met only here.” She smiled. “Umako would come at night and we would have dinner and talk. This was our place; it's in my grandparents' name. I keep another apartment downtown.”

“Good. We need to talk about how this is going to work,” Tanner said. “We'll use you as little as possible. It's safer if you—”

“I don't care about safety. I want you to get men who killed Umako.”

“I know you do, but it's going to get complicated. The less you're involved, the better. If we need to reach you, what's the best way?”

“Call here and leave a message; I will get it. We should agree on a phrase, shouldn't we, so I'll know it is really you?”

They discussed it for a few minutes and agreed on a recognition code.

“How can I reach you?”

Briggs had already worked this out. He laid a small map of the Kobe area on the table. Each numbered red dot represented a telephone booth, he explained. To request a contact, Sumiko would first choose a booth then add the number four. She would then call the hotel and leave a message for Tanner such as, “Unable to make our 12:30 lunch.” By subtracting and multiplying by the variable, Tanner would know to call booth number eight in two hours.

Tanner had her repeat the system to him, which she did flawlessly.

“One last question,” Tanner said. “Do the words Toshugu and Tsumago mean anything to you?”

Sumiko frowned. “Strange you ask. Umako asked about them, too. He thought they were ships, but I didn't find anything,” she said. “If they are, they don't exist on paper.”

Washington,
D.C.

Despite the hurried time line with which he'd been saddled, Fayyad was pleased. The chance encounter had gone well. Regardless of age and status, women react similarly to attraction stimulus, and it was no different with Judith Smith, though her stimulus was more emotional than physical. Her diary had told him that much, and their meeting had confirmed it.

Accordingly, he had been attentive and gracious and reserved—and above all, nonsexual. Her defenses would not be breached simply because she needed a roll in the hay. With her, it would be the emotional that sparked the physical.

By now she would be comparing their brief lunch to the two decades of marriage to the senator. When was the last time Smith asked her about her dreams? Or why she preferred Monet to Degas, or why Winslow's work made her melancholy? Thinking of their time together, she would want more.

He smiled, anticipating the seduction. She was a beautiful woman. Mature women were generally better in bed, he found, less concerned with putting on a show and quite open to new experiences.

He glanced at his watch. Almost time.

He showered, shaved, and dressed with care, choosing an Italian-cut double-breasted olive suit.

He could feel himself falling into character. You could not play a woman's ideal lover without at least partially losing yourself in the role. But that had its price, didn't it? To convince a woman he had fallen in love with her, Fayyad oftentimes did just that—if only for a brief time. In recent years, however, he'd been finding it increasingly difficult to slough off the masks he chose.

The affair in Kingston had been the hardest yet. Listening to her stories about her fears and longings, Fayyad had ached for her. She was so trusting, so innocent. All she had wanted was someone to love her, and now she was—

Stop
!
He gripped the bathroom counter and glared at his reflection.
Enough
!

Kingston had been a mistake. He'd let down his guard. This would be a simple seduction, an exercise in mechanics. He would do what was necessary, then leave.

At The Corcoran, Judith glanced at her watch for the tenth time in as many minutes and took a sip of wine. Was he coming?

The gallery was filled nearly to capacity. Spaced along the gallery walls were the eight new Kramers, each a square of vivid red, blue, and yellow on the stark white walls. Just as Kramer's pieces were always uniform in color and form, they were always uniformly hated or loved as well, and this exhibit was no different, causing brisk debate among critics. Judith barely heard any of it.

Where
was
he? How could she even be considering this?

She'd taken special care dressing that evening, doing and redoing her makeup, then dabbing perfume behind her ears, between her breasts, and then, impulsively, on her belly. She kept telling herself she only wanted another chance to talk with him about art. After all, he was an art student. What could be more natural?

It was a lie, and she knew it. He had sparked something in her. She remembered the way his eyes stared into hers and how easily he laughed and smiled. But it was the way he
listened
to her that affected her most. It had been as though she were the only person alive. Lying in bed before Herb came home, she was surprised to feel her nipples hardening. She hadn't felt this way in … God, she couldn't remember when.

By the time Herb arrived, she was burning with desire. On an impulse, she drew him to bed and let him take her. As always, Herb's erection needed coaxing, and once inside her, his thrusts were robotic and painfully hard. He kneaded her breasts, grunting until he climaxed a minute later. Without a word, he rolled off her and went to sleep. She went to the shower, lathered herself clean, then stood under the spray, crying.

She lay awake all night. Near dawn, she made her decision. She would go to the show and hope he came.

And now he isn't.
Perhaps it was best this way. The Cocoran was in the heart of the capital. Any rendezvous would certainly draw attention. What was she thinking? This wasn't like her. … She was acting—

Then, there he was, standing in the doorway.

He saw her, smiled, and walked over. Her heart pounded so hard the wine in her glass rippled.

“Judith, I'm so glad you are here,” he said.

Be casual,
Judith.
“I was hoping you'd come.” They were just friends, an innocent encounter in a public place, nothing more. “I'm glad you did.”

Paolo accepted a glass from a waiter. “Oh?”

“Yes. I enjoyed our lunch the other day. You gave me a lot to think about.”

“I'm glad. Are you with anyone tonight?”

“No, my … No, I came alone.”

“Then would you be my guide?”

“I'd love to.”

As had their lunch, the evening sped by. Paolo was a complete gentlemen, discreet and reserved. When he smiled at her, though, his eyes crinkled with humor.
He's enjoying this,
she thought. It was like a secret between them, an interlude yet not an interlude.

By ten o'clock, most of the patrons were gone, and when the lights dimmed at closing time, they found themselves alone.

She turned to Paolo. “Well, thank you …”

He was smiling at her.

“What?” she asked.

He tilted his head. “You are nervous.”

“No … no, not at all.”

“Do you have someplace to be?”

“No.”

“Will you walk with me? I have not yet been to the Tidal Basin. I'd like to see the apple blossoms.”

She laughed. “Cherry blossoms. But they aren't in bloom.”

“Too bad. Walk with me anyway?”

Judith looked into his eyes and saw something different this time. The invitation was unmistakable.
Leap,
Judith
!
“I'd love to,” she heard herself say.

After walking the path around the basin, the stood on Kutz Bridge, looking at the reflecting pool. In the distance they could see the White House illuminated by spotlights. He took off his coat and draped it over her shoulders.

“Paolo, you know I'm married,” Judith whispered.

“I know.”

“Do you … doesn't that—”

“No, Judith. At first, yes, but after our lunch I couldn't stop thinking about you. I even planned to stay away tonight, but I couldn't. You are not happy with him, are you?”

“No.”

“How long have you been married?”

“Twenty-five years.”

“Were you ever happy?”

“In the beginning,” Judith replied. “For the first few years.”

Paolo nodded, but without judgment. She liked that. Most men would have asked why she stayed. “Judith, tell me: Italian men, we have a … reputation, no?”

Judith laughed. “Oh my, yes.”

“You may not believe this, but I have been with only three women in my life.”

“Just three?” she asked, astonished.

“
Si.
I tell you this so you will not think I … So you won't think I seduce women for sport. Even as a younger man, I was never this way. My friends found it quite humorous.”

“I can imagine.”

“So, whatever happens between us, even if we never see one another again, you must know how … You are …” He threw up his hands.
“Mi displace,
I am not making sense!”

“No, go on, please.”

“For me, beauty is more. You are bright like the sun. In the way you talk, the way your eyes shine. I want to listen to you, to watch you. … Ahhh … I sound silly!”

My God,
no you don't.
“No, Paolo, it's not silly at all.”

“Even if we cannot be lovers, I want to be with you. How, I do not know, but that is what I want. Is that possible, Judith? Am I asking too much?”

All she could do was shake her head. She wanted him so badly her legs were trembling. This man standing before her was everything Herb was not. “Oh, Paolo, no, you're not asking too much. I want you, too. I don't care how or for how long! Please, let's go somewhere. Right now.”

He wrapped her in his arms, and she melted into him. As their lips met and his tongue touched hers, she hesitated. She'd never been kissed this way. It felt wonderful and new. She parted her lips and took his tongue into her mouth.

“When, Judith?” he whispered.

“Now.”

He shook his head. “I want you, Judith, please know that. But I want it to be perfect, and I want you to be sure.”

“I am, Paolo. I'm sure—”

He put a finger to his lips. “You must decide this with a clear heart, Judith. When you come to me, I want it to be completely and without reservation.” He kissed her again. “Do you understand?”

“I—”

Paolo placed his palm over her heart.
“This
is from where your decision must come. The heart …
Il
cuore.
Not from lust. I want all of you, not just your body. Now do you understand?”

Judith nodded dumbly. “
I
want all of you.
…” Moments ago she would have given her body wantonly, right here on the bridge. But he wanted
her
!

She knew her decision was made.

Japan

Sitting in a cluster of trees near the shoreline, Tanner had a perfect view of the shipyard, which sat nestled in a cove a mile away.

Earlier, just after sunset, he'd left the hotel and taken a shuttle north to Wakayama to catch the ferry across the Inland Sea to Tokushima. From there it was a half-hour taxi ride to Anan, where he continued on foot through the forest.

He'd been watching the shipyard steadily for two hours.

The security on the seaward side was as stringent as that of the land approaches. A twelve-foot electric fence encircled the cove and followed it inland to the yard's outlying buildings. Spaced at intervals along the fence stood spotlight-equipped guard towers.

The real surprise came when he focused on the patrol boats and the sea gate through which they came and went. The fence appeared to be made of heavy steel links. Tanner was betting it was fixed to the seabed as well. The gate itself, which served as a bridge between the two pontoon guard shacks, sat at the mouth of the cove.

What would warrant this kind of security
?
Tanner wondered. The answer, he hoped, lay with a pair of ships inside Secure Dock 12.

Behind him, he heard the double hoot of an owl. “Come on in, Bear,” Tanner whispered.

Cahil walked forward and stooped beside Tanner.

“Barn owl?” Briggs asked.

“Great horned. I brought supper: pastrami on rye.”

“Thanks.” Tanner unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite. “Anything from Leland?” Along with their report on the Sorakuen Garden meet, they'd requested Mason give them the name of Ohira's shipyard contact.

“Not yet.”

So far, Oaken's research had confirmed Sumiko's conclusion about Ohira's mystery ships: If in fact
Toshogu
and
Tsumago
existed, neither were documented, either by Takagi Maritime, Lloyds of London Shipping Index, or the UN International Maritime Bureau.

“So how's it look?” asked Cahil. “Easier than the land approach?”

“No, but it's still our best bet.” He handed Cahil the binoculars. “Watch the patrol boats.”

Within a few minutes, a pair of boats exited the gate, then fanned out along the fence, one to either side of the guard shacks. Moving at two knots, they trolled along, shining their spotlights into the water.

Tanner said, “See the flashing red lights on the fence pontoons?”

“Yeah. … Antiswimmer mines?”

“That's my guess.”

“They're pretty damned serious about something. Okay, I see Dock 12. How many are there?”

“Four.” Each were secured by giant hangar doors, and judging from their size, Tanner guessed each could house a couple of 500-foot-plus ships.

“How regular are the boat patrols?” Cahil asked.

“Every forty minutes, like clockwork.”

Cahil grinned. “Gotta love routine.”

One hour and two rolls of film later, they were preparing to leave when the doors of Dock 12 groaned to life and began rolling upward. Even a mile across the water, the whine of the motors was audible. Inside the cavernous interior Tanner could see yellow flashing lights and figures scurrying about on a pier. Soon a tugboat appeared at the entrance and began churning forward. Moments later a bow appeared out of the darkness, followed by the rest of the ship.

She measured 400 feet and displaced a solid 12,000 tons, Tanner estimated. On the afterdeck stood four massive derricks and a raised central combing half the size of a football field.

“It's a moon-pool,” Cahil muttered. “She's a salvage ship. You get the feeling Ohira was on to something?”

“Starting to. If she's one of his, we'd best get a look at her sister before she sails.”

Back at the hotel, they sat on the balcony as Tanner finished laying out his theory for Cahil. “How sure are you about this?” Bear said.

“Not very, but it doesn't feel like a coincidence.”

The idea had gelled as Briggs recalled Mitsu's story about the ship appearing in the waters off his village. It forced him to look at Ohira's chart with new eyes. Each of the six numbered asterisks on the chart was a navigational fix, he theorized. The numerator was a bearing, the denominator a distance. Using a compass and dividers, he'd calculated the fixes. With remarkable precision, all six points triangulated on a single spot on the chart: precisely where Ohira's red-dotted line ended, and almost exactly where Mitsu claimed the ship had anchored each night.

“So we've got Ohira interested in this spot, plus a nonexistent Takagi salvage ship nosing around,” Cahil said. “What the hell could be out there?”